World Curled Dark extract 1 Ran
by ravensnest
Summary: Ran wakes up to the aftermath of a confession. Rated R for sexual content. Lemon. *yaoi* (implied)


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Disclaimer: Weiß boys belong to Takehito Koyasu and Project Weiß. The rest belongs to Gwendolyn Flight & Scribblemoose. 

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This is the first of a pair of teasers for a fic we're writing together, called World Curled Dark, which will also be archived at our shared website, www.scarletseduction.info_. There's a contest there too, go look :)_

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World Curled Dark teaser 1 ~ Ran

The sun curved a shy smile bordering the single window that overlooked his room, and he came slowly to himself bathed in the bright gold-shafting rays of early afternoon. He was lying on his side, one arm curled up with his closed fist near his cheek, the other wrapped around the curve of his ribs in a self-comforting embrace. He was naked. The sheet had slipped somewhere down around his hips, but he didn't bother to retrieve it. The warmth of the winter sun felt good on his pale skin. 

Reluctantly he blinked one eye open, catching in flickering frames the verdict from his radio alarm clock. 12:17. PM. The alarm light burned steadily, pale and overpowered by the sun, and a fragmented memory from the early dawn returned in pieces. He closed his eyes again, wondering absently why on earth he'd felt the need to set his alarm for 1PM. Anou... Ken. Was in the shop alone. Chikuso. Well, no need to slack now that he was awake... 

He raised up on one elbow, fully intending to bound out of bed and into the shower, to rush downstairs and help Ken with the shop until Omi and Aya returned from school. Aya... He groaned softly, and fell face down into the pillow. 

His bed was warm. The air beyond the mattress was much colder, as if his body heat and the sun had conspired to create a radiating cocoon of warmth near the futon's surface. He snuggled down into the sleepy warmth. He did *not* wish to face his teammates. The warmth was... good. 

He turned languidly onto his back, pushing his arms above his head in a stretch that arched his spine and curled his toes. His arms retracted almost of their own will to rest on belly and chest, and he allowed himself a small sigh of contentment. 

This morning had... 

A chill crept through his shell, and shivered his nipples erect. He turned restlessly onto his side, snagged the sheet with one long arm, and pulled it up to his neck like shrugging into a jacket as he rolled onto his stomach. His arms he folded under his head, snugging his cheek into the pillow. Warm again. His toes wriggled restlessly, and his hips arched, pressing his slowly-waking cock into the mattress. He hummed, like a purring cat, and his hips flexed again. His blood-red hair, the only beacon in a sea of white bedclothes, blazed in the golden light. 

This morning had been... 

His wounds stretched, and ached, but the pain fizzled away in little zings of growing pleasure. Now he pressed his arousal into the sleep-warmed sheets, not moving more than the barest subtle wiggle, stilling the pleasure into a framework of sleep. A cat-like yawn, a second contented, toe-curling stretch, and he snuggled into the luxury of noon-bright cotton. Nothing evil could lurk in this land of light. 

This morning had been... 

Sleep retreated on the wings of a fading dream, ragged-recollection of a land of grey earth, a great cascaded lake, and a love beside still waters. He opened his eyes, blinking again at the clock. 12:39. He hadn't actually gotten any more sleep than Ken. He'd just slept at a different time, he justified, refusing to feel any guilt over lying abed as he yawned again. Perhaps a cup of tea... 

He wrestled himself onto his back again, rolling the stiffness out of his right shoulder and cracking the knuckles of his left hand. His jaw popped, and the slash along his ribs protested the sudden movement. His right hand crept down his belly, fingering through tangled curls to grasp the base of his cock. 

His back arched, and he gasped. Never before, and possibly never again, but his fingers tightened on a mindless spasm of muscle, and he caught his lower lip in his teeth to stop a moan. His left hand came down to press into the flat plane of his belly, stretched into concavity by a flex of hips and thighs, and he was pushing down into the soft flesh, pressing to the pubic bone as he gripped his cock, as though the pressing could push the feeling away. Make it less. Like trying to hold himself down, the desperate arch of back that paid his sore ribs no heed, head tossed back to tangle sweat-streaked hair by scrubbing on white cotton. 

This was new. This was more sensitive than he'd ever been. This was ... 

Precome slid over his grasping hand, and it stroked upward, taking his hips with it, and his voice on a gasp, and his fingers caught the proud-flaring head in a dabbling grip, unsheathing it rhythmically with light, teasing strokes. He tasted blood, and released his lip to taste the coppery flow. His neck strained, head cast away from sensations too intense to bear. He felt bare, heart-hungry, sheet kicked to the floor and a sheen of sweat starting on his moon-pale skin, glimmering in the wash of sunlight. 

This morning had been fantastic. 

And if Yohji ever touched him again, he would die of bliss. 

This is how the certainties of his life would be defined, in the twisting of katana-calloused fingers, in the blush of a remembered hand and a whispered promise, in the pained stretch of thighs spread farther than they would go, in a body supported only by heels and shoulders in his desperation. 

Yohji had... 

The buzz of the alarm startled him, and his left hand slammed it into silence and he was thrust into a single bright point of ecstasy as his toes curled and his knees buckled forward, spilling him onto his side as he ribboned himself in streamers of white. His hand clenched, and he shuddered, hips shuffling in a final spurt before he could let go. 

Yohji had been kind, and offered promises of hope, and he was a fool to believe. 

The pleasure washed away in a flush of self-loathing. The sun crept upward beyond his window, it's sliver-smile fading into brilliant blue, too winter-bright to ignore. A shiver caught him, and he curled around the tangle of his crushed arms. He couldn't live like this, his seed sticky and drying on his shivering skin. He couldn't live like this. Something had to give.

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We'll post the second teaser here soon, or you can catch it now at scarlet seduction, in the 'our fiction' section.

This is a whole new experience for us, so feedback would be especially helpful, here or by email (ravensnest@scarletseduction.info_) thanks! ^_^_


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